Special K, The Inane Ramblings of

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Sorry I have not written in a while, but I have
been pretty busy the past few years with things like grad school, job hunting,
Santeria, Netflix, making somebody love me, looking up pictures of baby
giraffes, and for one brief moment considering getting into quiling but
eventually deciding against it. Lately, I've been listening to a neat podcast
called Welcome to Night Vale. I don't know if you've ever heard it, but there
is a character on there named Carlos and he immediately reminded me of your
existence. Based on Carlos' description in this neat podcast I think you'd look
like him if you just wore a lab coat, grew out your hair, and looked completely
different in every single way.

I am thinking of starting my own podcast about
life in Canada and the delicate art of warming an igloo. Would you like to be a
voice actor on it? I hope not, because I already have someone in mind. But if
he falls through, I have two other backup people in mind. If you have igloo
warming experience and are interested in writing for my podcast, let me know by
whispering into a tapped phone. And if you have baby giraffe pictures, send
them. SEND THEM AT ONCE

From: Anastasia

Date: September 3, 2015

Subject: Psychics

I had an interesting encounter with a psychic
today. She said "Would you like your future read?" and I said
"No, thank you." and then she said "Ok have a nice day."

I am not sure if I believe in the whole fate
ordeal. I mean, I know we were clearly always meant to be the good friends that
we are now, but other than that I'd like to think we create our own futures.
Sad, disappointing futures.

From: Anastasia

Date: September 3, 2015

Subject: Bucket List

Wooden

Metal

Plastic

Ceremonial

Mop

Excavator

Pail

From: Anastasia

Date: October 21, 2015

Subject: Note

I went by your office the other day and left a
post-it note on your door. I did not leave an actual note on the post-it note
because I feel that we understand each other in such a way, that words are not
necessary. Feel free to use the post-it note to write your own note on it, or
keep it as a comforting reminder that I occasionally come to your door and
press my ear against it to listen to you breathing, then quietly leave without
alerting you to my presence. On Tuesdays, weather permitting, I also watch you
from the shadows as you walk to class. You have an excellent gait - but I'm
sure you hear that all the time.

From: Anastasia

Date: January 16, 2016

Subject: Poke

I messaged my friend on facebook
the other day and he did not reply so I "poked" him. He still has not
replied but he has "poked" me back. So now I have to find out where
he lives and go to his house. The only problem is, I am not sure which small
dead animal to leave on his doorstep. Birds signify love. Mice signify
friendship. A squirrel means you are ready to become that crime fighting duo
you always talked about. But which one would signify "hey I see you have
been active on FB but have not replied to me. Is everything ok? Maybe when you
have some time we can go for brinner and talk about what bastards our last
employer was, am I right? Haha. Anyway, thinking of you. Give me a shout when
you can. K bye."?

From: Him

Subject: Re: Poke

Date: January 16, 2016

I do not wish to have any contact, now or in the
future. If you try to contact me, I will consider it harassment and take legal
action.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

This place, so strange and unreal...the air is
constantly moving and shifting and the light is far too bright. The
people are staring; I don't belong here. I want to go back. Leave this
place and never return. I am forced to come here, to endure this day
after day. And yet it is always unfamiliar. Always foreign. Always hell.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be living here again
Weep, little lying man,
You're not as sly as you were at the start
Caught you steal and caught you lie
Take all the stuff that you have left

Get the hell out of here and don’t come back or I’ll take
off your head

But it was not your booze but mine

Oh yes, you stepped quite out of line

You’re really moving out this time

Don’t you touch my beer

Don’t you touch my beer

Tremble for yourself, my man,

You know that I have caught you steal before
Tremble, little lying man,
I’ll be changing the lock upon my door
Your face isn’t wanted in this place,
Your stupid mess has made this home a wreck
Now leave from this house or else spend your days worrying for your neck

Saturday, July 14, 2012

why do you cry like you have not a choice
why are you sad like you’re trying to go fix it
digging so deep like you want your own grave
lay in it, sleep, like I’m forcing you to do it
I don’t know what you’re doing
I don’t know what you’re doing

why is your sky oh so gloomy, my sweet?
pain clouds the sun like you need it to be dark now
was it so bright that it’s too much to bear?
darken the light like you think this will be better
I don’t know what you’re thinking
I don’t know what you’re thinking

why do you cry like you had not a choice
why do you hurt like I gave no chance to fix it
out of your mind you don’t know how to deal
why don’t you find an excuse, it’s what you do now…
you don’t know what you’ve done, dear
you don’t know what you’ve done, dear